


Handcuffs

by sleepwithacommunist



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23794696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepwithacommunist/pseuds/sleepwithacommunist
Summary: A drabble request from my tumblr: Getting bossy with Steve when he misses a date for work, "do you think you deserve to touch me yet? Hm? No, I don't think so, I think I'll have to teach you a lesson."
Relationships: Steve Murphy (Narcos)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Handcuffs

You were sitting in the living room, watching the rain beat against the windows of your small apartment when you heard the front door open and a familiar voice boom through the hallway.

“Hon,” Steve called out for you, “I’m home!”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to respond as you took a drag from your cigarette. His loud footsteps echoed as he dropped his jacket and bag by the door before entering the room.

“Hey,” he said softly and took in your attire as you glared at him.

You were dressed in a tight-fitting red dress, your hair and makeup took hours to complete, and the red heels that pinched your feet were now kicked off besides the foot of the couch. You hadn’t bothered to change yet because of all the effort you put in and you were too pissed to wipe off your makeup or undo your intricate hairdo.

You noticed the recognition in his eyes before he muttered, “Shit, was our date tonight?”

Scoffing, you put out your cigarette and waited for the half-ass excuse that you knew would leave his mouth soon. You watched unblinkingly as he ran his hand through his hair and thought of a way to explain himself.

“I’m sorry, babe. It’s just… I got caught up with work–”

“Work,” you repeated the word harshly, stopping him from saying another word. “You know, if you’re gonna blow me off for the third time this month, you gotta start coming up with better excuses.”

He sighed, knowing that he really pissed you off this time. Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he approached you slowly and sat beside you on the couch. You were mad at him, but you always fell for the way his eyes would soften and how his voice would drip with honey when he was apologizing to you.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Look at me,” he gently placed his hand on your chin and tilted your head so that you’d look into his mesmerizing baby blues. “I should’ve called, yeah? I’m sorry I blew you off. I promise I’ll be better about this.”

His face was inches from yours and you felt his breath fan across your face. “Forgive me,” he whispered, and you could feel your resolve fading already.

Closing the gap, he pressed his lips against yours in a hesitant kiss, his hand still holding your chin but not tight enough to keep you there if you decided to pull away. You melted against his lips, kissing him back slowly and moving closer to his body. You hated how easily he always got you to forgive him, and you felt anger flare within your chest at how persuasive he was without even trying. You pulled away, your hands pushing his chest lightly so that he’d let go of you.

“I’m still mad at you,” you whined, pursing your lips as you tried to ignore the way your heart was beating faster from his touch.

He chuckled and brushed his thumb across your bottom lip before leaning in to peck a kiss on your frown. “I know,” he laughed against your mouth. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You scoffed and pushed him away again, your lips twitching as you tried not to smile. “Don’t do that,” you groaned.

“Do what?” Steve smirked at you and moved his hands down to caress your body.

You got distracted with the way he ran his fingers along your sides before reaching your thighs. He looked down at your tight red dress and raised a brow, waiting for you to answer him.

“Don’t use that damn Southern charm on me,” you muttered and tried to wriggle away from him. The way his fingers crept up your thighs made all your thoughts leave your head, and you wanted some sense of control back.

He knew what he was doing; he grinned smugly as his hands reached the bottom of your dress. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he whispered coyly. 

You shivered from the sound of his voice and how he started pressing kisses on your neck. He was so damn annoying with how well he manipulated your body and caused you to forget everything that was bothering you. His hands were well under your dress when you realized you wanted to play hardball with him. Opening your eyes, you grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away from you.

As quickly as you could move in your skin tight dress, you pushed him against the couch and straddled his lap. He gave you a questioning look, but allowed you to move his hands so that they were resting on the back of the couch instead of on your body.

You rolled your eyes at how cocky he looked, waiting for your next move. It wasn’t a common occurrence for you to call the shots; he was always the more dominant one, but you were feeling bratty after having such a shitty day.

“Stop smirking, you fucking asshole,” you muttered half-heartedly and placed your hand on his neck before leaning down to kiss him.

God, he pissed you off, but you both knew you secretly loved that about him. You felt him smile against your lips and instinctively, he brought his hands back to rest against your ass.

You pulled away from his mouth and made a tsking sound, “Did I say you could touch me?” You rolled your hips against his lap, causing his mouth to open in surprise. “Put your hands back on the couch, Steve. You don’t deserve to touch me yet.”

He quirked a brow, a part of him wanting to test how far you’d go if he didn’t listen, but he reluctantly let go of you and returned his arms to the back of the couch. You watched him clench his jaw as you made another pass over the bulge in his pants, grinding down harder this time.

It was your turn to smirk now as he struggled not to grab your body. You alternated between light brushes against his lap and gyrating with more pressure, knowing the lack of consistent pressure was driving him mad. Your dress was already riding up your body, so you decided to roll it up to your waist, exposing the pair of black lace panties that you wore specially for him. He groaned when he saw them, his hands balling into fists on the back of the couch.

“See what you missed while you were at work?” You emphasized the last word, enjoying the pained look on his face as he willed himself not to touch you.

He was concentrating so hard that for once, he couldn’t come up with a witty response. You chuckled softly before moving your body so that you could straddle one of his legs. He watched your movements carefully until you slowly lowered yourself onto his thigh and started grinding against it.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he watched you, his eyes were dark with lust.

The friction of your panties rubbing against your clit made you moan, and you felt your arousal seep through the fabric. Steve jolted underneath you as you pushed your cunt down harder on his thigh, and his hands moved to grab your ass before he even realized what he was doing.

Immediately, you stopped moving and glared at him, but he tried to move your hips so that you would continue riding him. You grabbed his biceps, ignoring your thoughts of how strong his arms were as he held you down on his thigh.

“I hope you’re not this bad at following orders at the DEA,” you quipped. He grunted in response, trying to get you to move again, but you just dug your fingers into his arms and waited for him to let go.

With a heavy sigh, he released you, his jaw ticking in annoyance when you got off his lap and stood in front of him. Pulling your dress down, you walked towards the bedroom and looked at him over your shoulders.

“Well? Aren’t you coming?” You laughed when he got up quickly and met you in two strides. He growled softly and tried to grab you, but you placed your hands on his chest to stop him. “Nuh-uh, not so fast,” you teased, “you still haven’t earned the right to touch me yet.”

Steve groaned and tried to grab your sides anyway. “You know I’m not good at this,” he muttered in exasperation. “I can’t keep my hands off you, baby.”

You knew he was just trying to flatter you so that you’d give into his charm again, but this time it wouldn’t work. Standing on your tippy-toes, you leaned up to whisper in his ear seductively, “Then go get your handcuffs because I’m going to be in charge tonight.”


End file.
